


Strawberries And Cigarettes (Always Taste Like You)

by blueaurora



Series: take the risk, taste me [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Open Ending, bikers au kinda, kind of non linear narrative, san is in love with danger, seonghwa is a biker, somehow they find each other and fall in love, this hurts tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueaurora/pseuds/blueaurora
Summary: Seonghwa smells like cigarettes but tastes like strawberries, and that's something always bugging San.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Series: take the risk, taste me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687042
Comments: 35
Kudos: 152





	Strawberries And Cigarettes (Always Taste Like You)

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank san and seonghwa for coming into vlive today amen
> 
> [♡] tittle from my boy troye's strawberries and cigarettes

**_before — seonghwa_ **

Seonghwa smells like cigarettes but tastes like strawberries, and that's something always bugging San. 

There's a vague memory replaying at the back of his mind, his mother speaking about boys wearing leather jackets and smoking at the entry of some filthy club. San doesn't remember what were her exact words, but he is sure approaching one of those guys and lightning up his cigarette isn't quite close.

Cigarettes smell follow Seonghwa everywhere he goes, and maybe that's the only reason San knows the exact moment he is gonna jump into the window of his bedroom and press a hand flat into his stomach, lips devouring his with the fierce of a hungry beast. Tasting sweet. So sweet San's head is always spinning around, not understanding how cigarettes can taste so sweet on the tip of his tongue when he hates the smell.

(In Seonghwa, he doesn't hate it that much).

The first time San tasted the strawberries mixing with the danger on his tongue, he was just seventeen. 

Sneaking out late at night, eyeliner making his eyes look less cute and more sharp, more desirable. Tight jeans and a crop top. San really never listened to the words his mother put so much endeavour on. San _loved_ breaking rules, and Seonghwa was the divinity personification of every single rule being broken. Standing in front of him, leather jacket falling over one shoulder, skin sparkling like thousand stars under the moonlight — or the lampost, it didn't matter. 

Eyes falling on the skin of his abdomen, dark, goosebumps running all over his flesh for the first time in his life.

"Do you have some?" San asked, reaching his position, finger trembling as he pointed at the cigarette gracefully resting between his index and middle finger. Shaking out of excitement, adrenaline kicking in, tongue meeting his lower lip. Seonghwa's eyes moving so sweet over his body line, sweet and slow. Carefully getting every single detail from him, and San allows his body to drip in front of him.

"Or course," with just a single movement, Seonghwa placed _that_ cigarette in between his lips, thumb slowly parting them. "Do you maybe have fire?" 

San never really liked the smell of the smoke, neither he did put a cigarette between his lips more than twice, but he was ready. Fingers searching inside the cave of his pockets until he found the old lighter his father used to light up his cigarettes and the one Seonghwa took into his fingers to light up San's one, getting close so the fire could light up the one already dancing on his lips. At the same time. Breathing the same air for the first time.

And maybe, just maybe, it was in that exact moment, when the smoke came out of his mouth, splattering in San's face like sweet strawberries, when San knew he was fucked up.

Back to twenty one and having Seonghwa lips around his fingers, he still wonders where that strawberry taste comes from. If he is imagining it, everything being part of the longest wet dream he had ever have, being painted with a soft coat of pink softness when Seonghwa, the one that likes to smoke, bike race to death and sneak in his house late at night to fuck him slow and deep, kisses his shoulder and whispers how breathtakingly beautiful he is.

San is a mess, but Seonghwa is a bigger one. Sometimes San lays on top of his back, one finger following the lines of the wings he has tattooed there, wondering both if it was okay met him in that seedy club back at seventeen and if this is the last time he is going to see him, taking a curve wrong and spinning around until the purr of his motorbike stops and so does his heart.

Telling Seonghwa to stop racing is meaningless, and for that San doesn't try anymore. Sighing in relief when he sees him crawling all over his bed late at night to give him an open mouthed kiss, warm and breathless, tasting sweet. And San has to admit he always sleeps with his window open to make him a little room on his bed, even when Seonghwa is always gone when he opens his eyes in the morning, blooming hickies patching his fair skin being the only trace that confirms him he was there.

Wooyoung calls him an idiot. Wooyoung, that also races, that has been following Seonghwa around for as long as he had San wrapped around his finger. "You're searching for a happily ever after," he snorts during breakfast. "But there's no happy endings for us, if you keep swinging your tail for him, you're gonna end up covered in blood."

San never answers back, because Wooyoung is right. He lost his boyfriend into the street races' hands. The same that could be happening to Seonghwa when he rolls in bed at 4 A.M. He knows how dangerous the world he stepped in that night is, how things last just a second, how the bikers he got to met through Seonghwa always live their days at fully because they don't know where they're going to stand at the end of the day.

Deep down, when Seonghwa stands in the middle of his room at 4:04 A.M., San wants to believe he is scared to die too. Being as scared as he is when he wraps his arms around his back and brings him close to his chest. But Seonghwa is not scared.

He never was.

"You look like a divinity tonight," Seonghwa breathes into his neck, not biting but teeth constantly brushing his skin, trying to make music out of him.

San throws one arm all over his face and hides his giggles. He knows he has messy hair and chapped lips, how he is wearing nothing more but one of Seonghwa's shirt he left on his bedroom floor not long ago. Small body engulfed in black cigarettes that bring him back home.

And the only God standing in that room is Seonghwa. Wearing a black sleeveless, allowing him to see both his toned biceps and tattoos curling there so tempting San has to press his tongue there for a solid second, receiving a praise back. Black hair falling all over his face, perfectly. Sweat covering his forehead and makeup smashed, glitter falling all over his cheeks. It must be a work from Yeosang, San thinks, Seonghwa's fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

Staring at him.

"You're so beautiful, San," he repeats.

"You too."

"I wish you could put of my shoes for a second," Seonghwa is whispering all over his lips, stealing all the oxygen from his lungs with a simple word. San's body quivering beneath him, hips moving a lot. Searching for contact. To have Seonghwa all over him, feel him, _alive._ Seonghwa laughs, softly, tongue trailing a wet way from his parted lips to his neck, teeth finding his Adam's apple. San gulps and feels it _deeper_ , sinking, driving him crazy. "Look at you through my eyes, see how perfect you are right now. How lucky I am to have you," he comes back to his lips, where he kisses him.

Slow at first, San's eyelids fluttering close in a second. Fireworks exploding in the dark, fingers finding behind Seonghwa's head, pulling closer. And closer. And closer. Until the only thing on San's tongue is strawberry jam dripping everywhere. 

He doesn't want to put on Seonghwa's shoes, because he knows he would start crying the second he gets engulfed with Seonghwa's real thoughts. He, on the other hand, wants Seonghwa to put on his.

Feel how deep he reached within him. 

How scared he is of losing him with every _tic tac_ of the clock. So scared the words won't ever make it out of his throat. 

So he always says—

"I love you, Hwa."

Breathless, fingers piercing his skin. Pressing everywhere, making music out of his ribs. Tongue hot on his abdomen and lips curled around the meaty part of his thighs. Gasping so hard he thinks his lungs set on fire every time Seonghwa thrusts deeper inside him.

Feeling like crying, because he mean it. And Seonghwa always kisses his forehead, but never says it back. 

"Lend me your lighter," Seonghwa's voice floats around the room softly, kissing San's shoulder after kissing every inch of his skin first. "I lost mine."

San curls onto his own body for a second, naked and sweaty but also warm and content. Because he had always liked it like that, being it the only reason he met Seonghwa in the first place. He is not as soft as Yunho claims him to be, and Seonghwa knows that.

Sometimes, Seonghwa looks at him like he is about to open him wide and read all the chapters he had written until now. From the tortuous chapter one being pulled into the world were the oxygen burns to chapter seventeen where he let his tongue run all over his body in some park, moonlight being the only light covering them then. San is certain Seonghwa also knows his feelings are true, both love and fear. 

But he always skip those pages to get to the part where he is sitting on his lap and moving desperately slow.

San doesn't mind.

He stands up slowly, body already used to Seonghwa, kneeling in front of his drawer to pull that old lighter. The only one San owns, maybe the only thing he took with him when he ran away from home at nineteen to get in the bike of what he believed was the love of his life.

And he still does.

"Here," his fingers brush Seonghwa's when he sits back into the bed. Seonghwa sitting with his back pressed to the wall, chest covered in red marks, San's nails creating a masterpiece there. "Would you light it up for me? For the good old days."

San doesn't need more to drag his knees all over the mattress and light it up. One second after, Seonghwa is spilling strawberries all over his face and San is kissing him softly.

"Keep the lighter," he mumbles.

"Wasn't it from your dad?"

San shakes his head. 

"You are my family now," he breathes the smoke and contains it on his lungs. Burning, but not as much as Seonghwa's thumb brushing his navel. "You, and Wooyoung. Yunho, Mingi, everyone. I'm glad you accepted me even when I can't ride for shit."

Seonghwa laughs so abruptly soon he is coughing in front of him, smoke filling his small room in seconds, body shaking with an innocent bliss beneath him. It makes San smile.

"What's so funny?"

"Remember when you tried to ride Mingi's bike and almost run over Hongjoong?" Seonghwa laughs so sweetly for a moment San's mind is running wild, fingers tightly pressed to the back of his head, moving until he is taking all the smoke into his mouth.

"Hongjoong chased me for hours," San replies with a smile. "And the only thing you did was laugh your ass off."

"It was hilarious," Seonghwa takes another puff, smoke flowing out of his nostrils. San hates the smell, but he loves Seonghwa, so he scooch closer. "You are so cute, San."

The way Seonghwa looks at San will always make his legs tremble. It doesn't matter the time of the day — even though lately they've been only sharing the nights, where Seonghwa lives — or the moment of his life. Seventeen, nineteen or twenty-one. Maybe even forty-five. 

Seonghwa holds galaxies inside his eyes. Stars shining so brightly that for a moment, San forgets they're already dead. 

One hand on Seonghwa's cheek, he allows the thought of Seonghwa loving the life he has sink and root. Even when he knows it's a lie. When everything could crash so easily it's not scary anymore, is heartbreaking. 

"Will you stay the night?"

"Yunho will kill me if he finds me."

San shakes his head.

"Bet he heard us. Stay."

With another puff of the cigarette, Seonghwa is kissing him softly. The most delicate kiss they've shared in years. Lips against lips, moving so slowly it's painful. Sigh on his lips, strawberry coated.

"One day," is what Seonghwa drips over his tongue.

—

**_before — san_ **

San likes to sing on the shower at ass o'clock in the morning and that's something driving Seonghwa crazy. 

Not because of the sound waking him up when he just headed to bed — because he didn't — neither because he is deaf tone. There's something in the way San doesn't yelp when he slides a hand between his legs and presses his forehead into his wet shoulder that makes Seonghwa's heart take its last breath and patiently wait for the sweet embrace of death.

Something about how San's body reacts to his touch. Tensing and relaxing, moving towards him. Always hot and sweaty, heavy breathing that turns into desperate gasps, begging for more without actual words dripping from his honey lips, when he works him open for him. Making music for him, a whole masterpiece shattered in front of him. Seonghwa needs to put all the pieces together, and he does.

He always does.

Seonghwa was just eighteen when San appeared in front of him like the sweet remembrance that hell awaits for him. Smashed eyeliner and glossy lips, pouting at him, tempting. Gaping so beautifully for him when he got rid of those tight jeans hours later, pressing his body into the cold and misty grass and kissing him like he never kissed anyone.

Taking any honey remaining on those lips with him, waiting for him to open his eyes and hold him close, tell him life won't move forward. That he is done at eighteen for being too reckless. 

The thing is, life _moves_ forward. Because San guides him to his house and leaves a window open at night. Because he takes his body so well it has him shaking on top of him. Because when they move together, it seems like the world he was sucked in at just sixteen vanishes and he is able to imagine his life next to him. College, coffee dates, slow sex at 4 P.M. 

It's a dream that always draws in his mind as San's moans fill the room. Always so sweet, yet desperate. At 4 A.M. Seonghwa can't allow himself to drift.

Then one day, San is running away from home with him. Matted hair and those same jeans he was wearing when they meet. The same jeans he brushed his knees into the carpet of his bedroom. And the same jeans Seonghwa loves so much because he can feel the muscles of his legs molding just beneath the fabric. And for a moment, San hugging him close by the waist, riding his bike into the horizon, he feels how life moves forward.

Sometimes, when he is alone on his motorbike and the purr of the motor is the only thing keeping him with the eyes on the road, he wanders around the thought of taking San with him and run away one more time. Alone this time. Just the two of them, finally laying under the warm sun, where San deserves to be kissed.

He smokes more than before, maybe because San is always kissing him when he does it. Taking all the bad things howling inside of him and turning it into a beautiful melody. Always so sweet and nice and sugar coated.

It's stupid, because he promised Hongjoong at sixteen that he wouldn't risk anyone's life. He will just race with his own life in one hand, get money, pay back debts, get new debts. Start all over again. Yet that promise vanished as soon as San was smiling all over his mouth and biting his tongue. 

Keeping him with Yunho just so he could jump again into his window and lay next to him. Some nights, wishing for him to be already sound sleep. Hug him close and dig his face in the neck he loves so much, covered in a patch of freckles that totally looks like the kiss of the sun. Sleep at normal times. 

San is always awake, always waiting, though. Always looking at him like he did that night. Breaking him down inside, but also willing to bring him together. Fingers moving so fast on his skin, scratching, grabbing. Desperate. And kissing him at 4 A.M. makes him realize that he will never get tired of those lips. 

That those eyes have him melting inside. 

The same way he melted at eighteen, and the same way honey drips from a hive. Sticky, but so sweet. 

"Thought you weren't staying," San's voice is always filled with love. When he moans his name but also when he says he _loves_ him. It makes Seonghwa think what the hell was he thinking when he decided to fall for a reckless kid that's not scared of moving forward. 

Seonghwa gets in the bathtub still wearing his pants and shirt. Not his shoes, because just when he was about to go and crash into Hongjoong's bed, maybe ask him for a back rub and some nice words, San started singing. Moving alone, following his siren. San gasps a little, surprised, quickly closing the tap.

"What are you doing?"

"Changed my mind," he sighs, fingers slowly caressing his hips, hickies blossoming there like the most exquisite wildflowers he had ever laid his eyes on. "Think I'm gonna stay for a while."

"Nice," San's voice is nothing but a whisper floating around, fingers moving to the gem of his shirt and pulling up, falling in silence. There's a lot of silence, Seonghwa's mind starting to get loud.

He stares right into San's eyes, getting brown twisting in rebellion, starting a fire inside. Three moles on his left cheek, one on top of his eye. Seonghwa gives him four kisses. Heart aching for something that's still wandering around in the future, but for a reason, decides to attack him now. Biting hard into his skin.

And he does with San.

Teeth sinking everywhere, chest swelling with every whine escaping San's lips. Air blowing hot from his nose as he goes down and down and down. Being the one brushing his knees in a pair of jeans that _aren't_ San's, but making San's entire body fall apart.

Fingers threading on his hair, pushing forward until his nose is brushing the warm skin of his abdomen, one smile already forming on his lips, relaxing his entire soul to take him slow and deep. Not how San likes. San likes it fast and hard, San likes to move, arch his back and curse under his breath. He also likes to burst in giggles when he cums, and for a reason, when he is fucked up on his own bed, hair a mess, and he laughs like he is the happiest person in the world, Seonghwa can't help but lean in and kiss his forehead. He _loves_ him.

Right now San presses his lips into a line, so thin he is soon crying a little, just to not wake Yunho up. It's 6 A.M. 

Seonghwa just moves slow, almost like he is trying to fight with life. Trying to keep that moment forever. Staying like this. Just San and Seonghwa, naked in the bathtub, hearts pacing at the same ridiculous fast speed. Happy. 

San also cums slow, legs becoming jelly, body falling on top of Seonghwa. Always breathing so hard it has his flesh sparkling with excitement and his throat closing. Dry. He can feel the way San's chest moves, air flowing in the shape of a _fuck_ , next to his ear, dick pocking his abdomen.

"I wanted to scream your name," San bemoans. "This is fucking burning my chest."

"It's okay, we have plenty of time," Seonghwa hopes, brushing the wet hair falling over his face and just then he decides to save that image forever. Lips parted, air flowing, cheeks red and eyes unchanged. 

The same eyes of that one night.

San is still a rascal, not scared of dancing with the death. Seonghwa wishes he was like him. And he also wishes San stays forever.

"Fuck me again, please," San asks politely, but he still shamelessly grinds over his clothed — but aching — cock.

Seonghwa stands up easily, pulling San with him by the wrist. Taking off his pants in silence, hands moving to his hips and lifting him. Holding him close into the wall, kissing him the same way he did four years ago. 

Like nothing matters, and love is not made for him.

(But it does, it fucking does. And it hurts to hear his name coming out of San's mouth like a chant to keep his sanity. Seonghwa lost it long ago).

—

**_after_ ** **—** **_seonghwa_ **

Wooyoung's cigarettes make San scrunch his nose and move away everytime they sit together. Mostly, because the smell twist on his stomach, kicking him, one second away from throwing up all the food he just took.

Also, because even after five years, the smell of cigarettes always bring him back to the start. Back to Seonghwa. 

Back _home._

Playing with his fingers on the couch, waiting for Yeosang and Jongho, San thinks about that last night they spent together. The same night that drifted from 4 A.M. to 8 A.M. and for the first time in forever, he got Seonghwa's fingers intertwined with his own when the sun rose. And it felt like a dream.

Sometimes, when nights get too long and 3:59 A.M. lasts forever, he really feels all the things he lived with Seonghwa were part of a dream. Rolling in bed and waiting for his figure to cross his window, smile at him, and take him into his arms. 4 A.M. never arrives.

After five years, San still sleeps with his window open. Waiting for that happily ever after bikers don't seem to have. But the one he still wants to give to Seonghwa. 

Wooyoung has a sharp tongue, and the first time San ever punched him, was after two months without having news from Seonghwa. "He's dead," he said, and San's body moved out of impulse. Not because he thought it was a lie but because all his cells were screaming it was true, that, along with all his hopes, Seonghwa decided to vanish in the nightfall.

Hongjoong told him they couldn't even find his bike. That he had debts. That he was hiding more than he ever told San. It didn't help him from all the tears he ate late at night, still wearing that shirt. Seonghwa's shirt. Still smelling like strawberries and cigarettes. 

And one day, after three years, San finds something in one of his drawers. A pack of cigarettes, just one remaining there. _Strawberry_ flavoured. 

San was seventeen when he first lighted up a cigarette for Seonghwa. He is twenty-six when he lights up the last one. Still tasting him there, and also, still opening his window and waiting for 4 A.M. to roll up with the warmth just Seonghwa held within him. 

—

**_after_ ** **—** **_san_ **

Seonghwa plays with the lighter San gave him. Spinning it with his fingers, eyes lost in the horizon. The golden sky exploding in thousand colors that San would have loved. It's been five years since he took one cigarette into his lips.

Because San kissed him hard when he smoked, and because strawberry flavoured cigarettes always find a way to San's hair. Always a mess in his hands.

Fear is still eating his ankles, and as he puts the helmet back and starts the engine, he promises himself that one day he will come back. That one day, they will be able to live together without danger.

That one day, San will be the only risk he will be willing to take. 

_One day._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be happier idk what happened haha but thank you so much for reading <3
> 
> my twitter: [青い](https://twitter.com/_blueaurora?s=09)


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